Humming, Natasha repeats the process of climbing up to the next floor, with Clint's help. She waits for him to join her, once she's settled, then gestures for him to give her another boost. And another. And another. They've managed four of five floors by the time she stops him, higher now than they were than they started, and leans into the balcony, trying to catch her breath. If she wasn't sure whether or not she'd be feeling this tomorrow, before, she definitely is, now. Between the fight, heading down and then heading back up, she's exhausted.

"We should be good here," she tells him, that in mind. Maybe they aren't, but she's not sure either of them will make it much further if they stick solely to the balconies -- particularly when she notices he's bleeding, now. "Your side."